Ladies in Red Part 1: The Crimson Ruse
by ViaRProxy
Summary: Red dress, red wine, red blush. It seemed the only way to release these matters, Miranda thought, was to make Andrea submit...continuously. Set after Paris.


**Ladies in Red Part 1: The Crimson Ruse**

My gift to mxrolkr

**Title:** Ladies in Red Part 1: The Crimson Ruse  
**Fandom:** The Devil Wears Prada

**Wish list:** What I want: SMUT! There I'm not afraid to say it! But love too. Not  
much angst, a little is okay if it's realistic and serves the overall  
story. Miranda/Andy a must. AU is fine, maybe different career paths  
or Definitely the twins. NO death fic  
**Author:** ViaRProxy

**Paring:** Miranda/Andrea  
**Disclaimer:** These ladies are not mine. Wish they were.

**Rating:** Explicit R-17  
**Author's important note**: Listen to 'Lady in Red' while reading this. It will be amazing, I promise…

**Summary:** Red dress, red wine, red blush. It seemed the only way to release these matters, Miranda thought, was to make Andrea cum...continuously. Set after Paris.

**Author's note**: I wrote this back in 2009 as part of a Secret Santa Wish list exchange for Mxrolkr. Circumstances then prevented me from finishing it and it was put away, until this year. I then decided to expand it into a three part series. All the titles will have 'Red' in them. Enjoy dears. And to my dear beta ibaelf (Smirks) I thank you and I'm looking forward to how this will progress.

**Set in the pending future.**

Miranda Priestly was a woman who refused to understand or to act out the meaning of certain words; weakness being one of them.

Try as they might, it was not unknown to her that these words consumed the people in her workforce, feeding on them like parasites. It bore her. To see them succumb to the basic forms of weakness, in a manner of hours, was simply dull. This, in turn, forced her to use even harsher methods to successfully complete tasks. And even as it took a toll on them both, she still continued with the same methods, upholding the same standards. She would not let them, these insignificant terms, consume her or her work.

To give in would mean she would become the very definition of the words she despised and becoming that insufficient was simply not the Priestly way. The phrase being implied today was of course the idea of 'being late or not on time' for work or any social event of importance. It may have sounded petty to a bystander, uneducated in the Priestly ways, but rest assured they were neutered in their thoughts and informed quickly. She was always early. It could thus never be grasped why other people were late or how they could have excuses lined up to explain their new form of 'modern punctuality'. It was unacceptable. It was pathetic.

But today everything seemed to be diametrically opposed, for this perverse word had somehow managed to consume her. It held her form firmly in place as if she was weak, as if she was minute. Insulting her and drawing pleasure in her distress as it fed off the change in her previously controlled voice. It seemed some higher power had to be drunk on malice, for it was the only way her brain could reason why this was happening.

Tonight Miranda Priestly, was indeed late. However this was not the actual problem. The core of the problem was that she actually, for some peculiar and unexplainable reason, enjoyed it.

**Present time**

"Roy, where the bloody hell is she!?"

Miranda Priestly had not yet arrived.

And it was starting to become obvious.

Even to her standards of arriving earlier for work, pushing run-throughs up in advance, the Ice Queen usually arrived only 30 to 45 minutes later for a benefit. It was common sense to be there when everyone else arrived. But tonight it was not the case. It was clear that being an hour and a half late was pushing it, even for Miranda. However it was also clear that something had to be wrong. Miranda was not that sort of a pusher.

Thus those who worked for her, knew the state of affairs, but would not dare say it out loud.

Miranda Priestly was ...late.

At this, Nigel could only role his eyes. It was getting a little too dramatic at this point, even for him. Emily was scurrying around like a red ant, frantic to keep her emotions under control. Moments ago she even started throwing biting comments at every person who dared ask her…well anything. Now, compared to when they were at Runway, he did not find her role of tragedy as amusing. No, it had grown apparent, even after Miranda had not arrived a half hour ago, that Emily would indeed remind him every passing minute of the Ice Queen's absence. She finally snapped, it seemed, and plucked her phone out of her bosom and pressed a single number, which of course was Roy's number on speed dial.

She was speaking louder now.

He found the Brit could do her job very well but really did she have to…He suddenly stopped his train of thought and frowned. Wrinkles or not he could not help it. In front of him Emily's eyes grew bigger by the second and he could swear a streak of sweat ran down that alabaster temple of hers.

Then a silent but clearly mouthed 'what?' formed over her lips. If Nigel was not standing as close to her as he was, he could have sworn it would have looked like a silent mouthing of the word 'fuck' by the way Emily's expressions contorted in front of him. Again, simply too dramatic. And not as amusing.

Before Nigel could respond, it seemed she finally managed to let sound escape from her lips but the way she spoke made the language sound foreign. It was like, in her hysterics, she had flung herself straight into a coarse cockney accent. Hmmm force of habit? The words 'the rain in Spain…' formed in his mind before he could help himself.

Then Nigel blinked.

Her words had finally registered in his ears. He shook his head slightly more for effect than purpose. He must have heard wrong. Emily could not have said…

He grabbed the phone, rescuing the woman of very fair skin from becoming even paler.

"Roy, it's Nigel, _please_ tell me I heard wrong. Did you really…?" Nigel swallowed.

And Emily seemed like she would faint any minute. Where's a piece of cheese when you need it. She tried to speak but nothing came out. Nigel did not seem to help her state, seeing that he was equally stunned as he held the phone in a somewhat quivering hand against his ear. Emily tried to think. She tried to solve this disaster but all she could form in her mind was:

_I love my job._

I love my job!

I

LOVE

MY…

Then suddenly Nigel's hand was steady, his brow relaxed and he smirked.

"Alright... I will. Thanks." Nigel said sounding a little too composed.

Emily blinked several times out of confusion. Was she seeing things?

"Did I…?"

"No, you heard right." He slowly extended his hand, handing her back the phone.

"And?" Emily asked but knew it would not be good news. Clearly Nigel had gone mad, bonkers even. He was just too ...cheery.

Then, lazily, he looked at his watch and then at Emily in one smooth movement. He answered without pause.

"He dropped her off about an hour or so ago."

**An hour or so ago**

The limo came to an abrupt stop in front of the Scarlet Rose Hotel.

Miranda lifted her gaze.

It was not the main entrance. It never was. Miranda always entered at a side door. Never the less, it did not mean that the side entrances were not as grand as the main one.

Her eyes quickly walked the red strip of fabric, which started at the grimy sides of the street. It lead directly into the two door doorway of the hotel. The red carpet could probably be seen from a great distance. That's how prominent it was. It made a fine pathway for the Royals who would make their entrance without modesty. On either sides of the door was a pole and around it, neatly draped, was a thin cloth. It decorated the ash silver poles beautifully to the point that one could barely see them. The string of sparkling white satin drapes hung to the sides of the entrance swaying lightly at every passing swish of the door or lazy breeze of ice which twirled on into the streets. It almost glittered next to all the …red. Next to the poles, and practically all around the hotel, stood enormous vases full of crimson roses. Miranda could not see whether they were real or not, but they did not seem fake from afar. The bushes of crimson roses were set out in clusters and the scarlet roof gleamed over the man who held open the doors to the hotel. He was also dressed in red. It was not too much. The snow that was shovelled to either side of the poles seemed to melt into the same colour scheme of silver and white as the cloth, until it seemed as if the swaying fabric around the poles would freeze into it like ice crystals.

Miranda smirked, bitterly. It seemed she found her ice palace.

Indeed, she thought…the name was accurate.

She did not know if she thought pleasantly of her many 'icy' titles or the red of the 'Scarlet Rose Hotel' for both were not very inventive, but still effective. She shifted a little in the back seat. Roy had not opened the door yet. He never did, not before she looked at him. It was never a spoken rule but it was a rule. Everyone knew it. Sometimes she would not look at him but rather say something in the line of 'you do know how I love to wait'. Which would probably not entirely be a sarcastic remark, seeing that she enjoyed her pre-event alone time in the limo. It would be the quite before she was inside a room full of flayed fake people. But again it was never spoken of. She would then be surrounded by the pathetically driven needs of those inferior to her and of those who wanted to be close to her, hoping some of her beauty, her brilliance would rub off on them in merely a glance or word, no matter how harsh or insignificant. In short, they would try and consume her. So many things tried to do that these days but with no prevail. However her hold was starting to slip ever so slightly.

The entrance loomed at her. Something kept her from entering. She tried to force herself out of this mind-set, maybe even out of the limo but nothing. She looked at the entrance again, determined to find the fault there. It was nicely done indeed and then she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes lazily. A scapegoat had rammed into her eyes. The red and white suddenly enhanced the glittering things around the hotel and above the scarlet rooftops. It was also everywhere if she had looked closer. But now she did.

_Typical, oh so typical,_ she thought, _to have the streets cluttered with… with…_

She sighed.

"Christmas lights." She breathed through her teeth.

She hated them. She never had them around her house, never allowed them near her. She just did not do Christmas lights.

These were also red and not the proper shade.

She sighed.

That is also why she never wore red around green or green around red, at least not to big events or even considered it at Christmas time. It always screamed 'Christmas tree!' in her ears… The red carpet, crimson roses and scarlet roof tops she could take but not the RED Christmas lights. If she came near them… then…Yes indeed…Christmas tree.

Her lips curled in disgust. Of all the things to even consider 'pretty'.

She softly sucked in a long breath through her teeth and spoke briskly.

"Another entrance, find it, now…"

"Yes Miranda."

Roy backed up and nearly ran into a pole stringed with lights. She would not have objected if he did.

Pursing her lips, she smoothed the little creases that started to form in her lap. The dress soon moved back into perfection under her fingertips. As it should have.

She sighed.

_The combination of red and green do simply not work._ She thought…no she knew.

They soon stopped in front of another side entrance. Slowly she lifted her gaze and a hint of an approving smirk formed across her lips. No lights, no red. She was pleased…for now.

So she looked at Roy's direction and he quickly got out and opened her door.

And as soon as the door opened, Miranda emerged in a pull of silk and lace. The black on the back of her shoes hit the cold street first. It slicked rhythmically to the palate of the street and could almost be compared to a military march…almost. In the filth of New York's streets, she strutted as if it was the worshiping streets of Paris. She was wearing something in-between ivory and extreme white. Not quite silver, not quite pearl. Neatly fitted around her bosom, the rest fell all the way down. It did not cling to her curves. Her movement was so that the fabric seemed to be water on her skin. Yes people would be very thirsty tonight. The top part at her bosom was the only part with colour. It was kissed with a slither of black lace and the fabric under it had the nearest hint of green in it. Emerald to be precise. It was breath-taking to say the least and very cold. She tightened her mocking black coat around her, pleased that there was indeed no lights.

Miranda Priestly never clashed with lights.

Her elegant neck swayed to the right where Roy stood. She only glanced at him for a moment and then she was inside.

He knew immediately that this meant 'Do not move the limo. I will be back soon.'.

When she entered the doorway she flung her coat at the first person she saw. He quickly recognized her and placed it in a cloak cupboard on the left of him. It seemed they had coat storage all over the hotel these days.

Finally something...Acceptable.

The other man stared at her for a moment before he motioned with his hand to the main hall. She realized she would have to walk through a long corridor, for the sound of the benefit was faint. Never the less, she could certainly hear the music and could smell the stench of fake gestures with each step she took. When she turned a corner the corridor continued but it did not bother her. She drew in a deep breath and her shoulders fell slowly but purposely into a dominant posture. She repeated this several times, not because she was nervous, for she was not, but because it had become a habit, a ritual. It was a simple but effective way of focusing before meeting her fate. Soon she would simply glide her way through another crowd, throw them some smiles, only enough to leave them begging for more. She would then make her speech to her long-time friend Valentino. His retirement had long been a myth in her mind but now it was here. It was after all what this evening of all red, black, green, and white dresses were about. A send off from runway…A mere three days before Christmas 'farewell'.

_How droll,_ she thought, _but necessary_. She would no longer be able to simply lift her eyes to see an acceptable masterpiece in front of her. Disasters like the James Holt sketches would soon follow thus becoming an inbred swine. Thus she almost did not want to make a speech to honor Valentino. Oh yes that was why she was there again; 'the speech'. The one to be made as quick as possible and thus she would say her praise to her long 'acquainted' friend and leave. It was as simple as that. No song, no dance, just a simple smile of thanks. Indeed it would be the only sincere smile of the night. And it would not even be hers.

As she neared the hall she smirked, amused. She traced the fabric in a glide with her fingertips. Valentino's last creation marvelled at her touch. At least she could say he never disappointed her… yet, for his work was done.

She lifted her head high and with a little too much force, her night just got a lot better it seemed…it seemed.

Andrea stood calmly at the far side of the hall. She was there on her own terms; no one forced her to be there or talk to any one she did not wish to talk to. True she had to cover the big Valentino send off by Runway for the Mirror but still it was not a pain. Smiling calmly she thought of this Christmas to come.

She loved Christmas. It was probably because of the memories she spent with family and friends. The food, the idea of sleeping more than seven hours, oh and don't forget the Christmas lights. Maybe this year her mom would hang up the lights with the open mind of actually putting up the tree on the left hand side. It would then not irritate her dad so much. He would usually walk through the door and nearly walk into the big thing when heading for his study. Maybe this year her sister would be there with her husband and maybe she would finally tell them that she was pregnant. Well she would have to. No one would be able to miss it by now. Andy smiled at the memory of her sister phoning her telling her that she was pregnant…with twins. Oh boy.

Andy could only smile when she heard the news but her brow had fallen. Her sister had asked about Nate. Nate? Oh he was long gone Andy had tried to explain. It would have been enough to start another conversation but instead her sister wanted to know when Andy would settle down. Leave the big city behind and find a nice man…who stuck around this time. The words were not spoken harshly by her sister but when she asked if she could hook her older sister up with one of her friend's friends, Andy suddenly said someone else was phoning. And after saying happy farewells and such…she hung up.

Andy sighed. Indeed maybe this year Andy would tell her family that she was gay…as in she liked women. A lesbian. Maybe. _Oh that would go down well_ she thought. So as Andy stood there, with the most serene smile plastered on her face, she knew it was insincere. It was fake, for she could not…

She blinked.

At least she will not be home for Christmas this year. She did not know if that thought was a blessing or a punishment.

She did not dwell because she suddenly felt her mouth's corners curl spontaneously, thus her genuine smile met a scolding frown. It soon followed by a bobbing of red hair and swaying earrings.

"Oh god, of all the places and time to have you around, you choose Valentino's send off, when you clearly know that Miran—"

"It's nice to see you too, Em." Andy smiled at the Brit.

It was, it really was and by the look of the suppressed smile which soon tore through the sides of Emily's mouth, she did not full heartily disagree.

She then cocked her head to the side and lifted her eyes to look at Andy's dress.

Andy could only smile.

"Not too bad…too big for me but it's…" Then Emily's eyes widened.

"It's…" Emily continued.

"Uh hmmm." was all Andy needed to say.

" and vintage?"

Another smile.

"Where…who?"

"Nigel…"

Andy twirled very slowly.

And the very flattering fitted bow -tails followed her as did Emily's eyes. The back was a deep 'v' shape with a corset finish. It went very low as well and she swore, from what she saw, that the threading stopped below her hips. The bow began there. It was not out of place but just the right weight to fall loosely behind Andy in a flatted plat. It did not bulge. Silk was woven into the edges of the dress and as it swayed, hints of beading and embroidery competed for the eye's attention. Emily drew in a breath. Usually white had the danger of saying 'wedding dress' but this one's silk and now and then silver glint, let the wedding plans get cancelled. And anyway it was too seductive to be a wedding dress. It was a pre-designed dress of the older, but still not unfashionable, blueprint of The Maestro. It was very rare, very expensive, and very beautiful.

Andy watched Emily gape at the dress and felt pleased. At least she could not ask her if her Grandmother gave her this as well anymore. Emily looked her part as well. She was dressed in a red Valentino number and for once Andy agreed that women with red hair should wear red…all the time.

But when Andy started to take a little too close look at the rise and fall of Emily's breathing, how her skin seemed so soft and how the dress showed …curves not bones, Andy took out her phone. It was time to leave before...

"Well I'm off..."she said and put the phone away in her bosom, as she had learned while working at Runway. She could feel a little blush work its way up her neck.

Emily tried to look bored but still some regret was in there somewhere. Indeed she would be left to Miranda's unlikely mercy by herself. Again.

Emily cleared her throat.

"Good…just don't…".

"Run into Miranda? I'm sure it'll be difficult seeing that she's not here yet. "

Andy looked relieved and she was. She did not want to see the older woman. She did not want to be near her. She…

"God forbid." Emily said and waved her hand in not really a 'shoo' or good bye gesture.

"Let's hope. " she said and took a glass of wine from the bypassing waiter.

Red, Andy decided and nearly blushed again.

"Bye Em. It was nice seeing you. " And with that Andy turned but did not miss Emily rolling her eyes.

_Good,_ Andy thought, _she seems her old self again. You'll need it when Miranda shows up._ But then she thought again. Was it not maybe Emily rolling her eyes over Andy's body. She did not dwell. She did not blush.

As Emily watched the brunette she smiled for a brief moment.

"That bitch." she whispered.

A very brief moment.

Eventually Emily could not decide if the comment was for either Andrea or Nigel.

Andy soon noticed as she walked that this exit was very deep. It did not matter much. The wine was at least nice. She took another sip. Yes it was a good wine. And then another. Definitely not the usual crap they served at Benefits. (Even though they never had a glass per say but she did remember downing champagne before she had fled to get to Nate's party…the one she had missed.) Suddenly the wine was not so good thus instead of downing it immediately she took her time with it. Not even stopping when taking a sip. (contradicts each other, not sure which it's suppose to be)

She walked with a brisk pace.

Her mind was racing.

Then without slowing down she bumped into someone.

"oh...I'm...I'm so sorry I wasn't looking..." she said.

She was still half in a daze but when she slowly lifted her eyes, she wanted to close them and run…run like hell.  
Her wide brown eyes locked with the dark glare of Miranda Priestly.

_Oh __okay__…_

Oh and Andy's red wine was spilled all over Miranda's Valentino dress.

_Shiii..._

Crash.

Then something broke. (changed order)

The glass hit the floor in a harsh clash. Shards slid on the moist floor. The sound passed and it was suddenly very silent and cold in the passage. Miranda looked fucking pissed to put it mildly. Her shoulders were stiff, her back drawn to its full height, body swaying a little. Andy swore she could see the woman's left eye twitching.

_Oh shi-_

"Shit!" Andy shrieked out loud ready to flee.

Then, before either of them could say anything else, Miranda grabbed Andy's wrist and partially pulled, partially threw her into an open conference room.

Andy staggered inside, soon followed by Miranda.

And Andy nearly fainted.

Miranda looked gorgeous, even in the red stained dress.

_Shit, stop it..._ she thought.

Too late Andy looked at the figure before her and swallowed. Half of her was scared shitless as she realized Miranda was staring at her with so much loathing. Andy nearly drew blood at her lips when she bit down on them. But the blood spill would probably have to be much more to compare to the crimson which was spreading over the alabaster lace by the second.

Andy started to fidget.

"I-I'm…" What? Sorry?

Miranda took a step forward.

"It's no-" Not that bad? It was. It was really bad.

And another.

"It will-" Come out? Ha! It won't.

And another…till.

"Shut up you confounded girl." Miranda finally hissed and Andy practically yelped back and nearly jumped into a stack of chairs. The room seemed to be a meeting room but the tables were stacked as were the chairs. So it was just them, Miranda and an entire open space. Nowhere to hide…Shit.

Then Miranda's one hand faintly touched her bosom. Her own not Andy's…Andy realized. Red came off. It really looked bad. The white dress had a thrown red streak on it and Andy could swear the back looked no better seeing that the wine went everywhere. A small green patch waved at her. Gee at least someone was glad to see her as Andy noticed Miranda's nipple stand.

Then Miranda looked down and up more fury building inside of her. She glared in disgust.

Ah caught …red handed did not really work here.

Well at least that was not Andy's fault. Was it?

"Miranda I…"

"Don't…" she said looking down at her dress and then her hands.

Andy drew in a breath.

Miranda's hands were shaking.

"Please Miranda j-just listen. I-I'm sorry...really I-I..."

Miranda was not listening. God only knew what madness was racing in her head at this moment.

Andy swallowed as she stood there in front of her, feeling more helpless than ever.

" If I could help, I would but…"

Then suddenly Miranda lifted her head and slowly a wicked smirk appeared upon her face.

"You're wearing a Valentino."

It was not a question.

Yes she was. Andy thought. It felt weird for Miranda to think clearly even when she was in such a predicament and to even recognize the dress. She was good. God knows Andy could not think right now. Miranda seemed under control again…hmm a kind of drunken control. No pun intended. And even as she slowly started walking towards Andy, not lowering her gaze, she…wait… WHAT?!

And then as Miranda came ever closer to her, her heels clicking, Andy realized Miranda's plan.

She wanted to take Andy's dress. No she _was_ going to…

And by the look of it, now!

"No!" was all Andy could get out before Miranda almost pounced her. Andy nearly fell but found her balance just in time. Oh curse the one who said heels are a woman's friend!

"You're not taking…hey!" Andy yelped as Miranda nearly grabbed her again. Andy actually started ducking and sprinting in various directions just to keep away from Miranda's claws. At least both of them had a fair chance in speed because of the dresses. Neither of them could really run from a far and the chase would probably have been seen in slow motion. But now Andy could not reason the speed for she just wanted to get to the door behind Miranda. Oh and they were still wearing their heels. Even if Andy had had some experience in running with both, it still would not help.

"Give me… that." was all Miranda could muster under her teeth. Indeed it seemed even Miranda Priestly would succumb to primitive communication when survival instincts kicked in.

_Well more like animal instincts_, Andy thought in all the confusion, as she nearly slipped. She was seriously being chased now.

It really did appear to her that Miranda was some bizarre Siberian snow tiger with the white dress and hair and all. To top that off, the red wine certainly did not help in its perfect mimicking of blood which would have happened after a kill. So yeah, Miranda appeared to be a tiger that just fed and wanted more…and Andy or rather her dress was the ….

"Stop…running and ducking. You will tear the dress." Miranda growled.

My word.

"Oh sorry,..." Andy huffed "...was I suppose to w-waltz while trying to get away from you!" she jumped with even more force to her left but then Andy smirked. It was not cute or fluffy. It was starting to become beastly as well.

"Maybe, haha, maybe I should! " Andy shouted and she saw Miranda stiffen and stop in her tracks "tear it, that is." She suddenly saw Miranda's eyes widen "That way…"

"Nooo…" Miranda cried as if she truly, desperately believed Andy's now regretted joke, and actually nearly pinned her.

Andy just virtually twirled around. Okay were they dancing now or what?

Talk about 'Beastly Priestly'.

_Fuck this_ Andy thought and with one quick move kicked off her heels. Miranda did not follow. She was taller now and it seemed it pleased her. Andy wanted more than anything to slap that amused smirk off her face.

"Getting tired?" she said lifting her brow.

"You w-wish." Andy said but her breath betrayed her.

Miranda grinned and Andy glared. Weird how the roles reversed.

"You do realize" Andy panted "that if you get …near me …with that red dress...".

"White." Miranda ran her shaking hand threw her hair.

"Red!" she swallowed "Then this..." she gestured at her own dress "...it…will also become…red. So there." she said and put her hands on her hips like that solved it all. She stared at Miranda as the woman nodded and pursed her lips. Good so they finally agree. Andy could not take her eyes off Miranda. What? No hmm she meant not keeping Miranda out of her sight.

But then Miranda tilted her head and blinked lazily.

"Well if it can't be helped…" her breathing was barely under control.

She turned around and started to leave. Andy then realized she was going to do it. She, Miranda Priestly, was going to make her speech, in her red stained Valentino and did not care! And Andy felt like she had…

Click.

…No such luck.

Miranda locked the door and turned around with a look that nearly made Andy's knees give in.

"…then I will…" she started walking to the side but continued speaking "…have to…" like she never stopped "…remove mine first…" and then she did just that.

The hair on Andy's neck started to rise and eyes went wide. In front of her Miranda reached to the back of her dress and with one simple movement, pulled, twisted and then the dress fell like water to the floor to expose cream and silk. Andy's hand shot up just in time to smoulder a squeak.

There stood Miranda Priestly clad in the most kinky black and green laced bra and..a thong which Andy had never seen. Her black Prada pumps glinted at her. Mocking her. Her breasts rose and fell in an even pull as the 3 quarter covering bra dared her breasts to escape. Andy's eyelids fluttered and could not help but to trail her eyes down the cream slopes of Miranda's belly to her hips. When Andy reached her thong, she was panting. The lace was just a simple piece of cloth. It would be so easy for Andy to just reach and pull it down to expose…

Andy blinked and realized how slick she must be by now. How even a mere glimpse of more of Miranda's skin made her… wetter. She was not even completely naked. It was so unfair. There she stood, the woman, who was always moaning in her dreams and all Miranda wanted was Andy's fucking dress. So typical of Miranda. Always thinking of herself, of Runway, of her image. And NEVER of Andy's needs, Andy's image, never even looking at Andy. In her dreams Miranda's fingers were always inside of Andy, her mouth on her breast and was always ready to give Andy what she needed without being so selfish . Andy would then return the need to the older woman who by then was always so wet and…

"Ready?"

Andy gulped. And nearly came.

Shit she was not ready. She was at an enormous disadvantage. She was screwed…and not in the way she wanted to be.

"Oh stop looking at me like that Andrea. By the clear blush appearing at your neck and the deep breathing I could swear that you want me."

Then Andrea actually took a step back and turned even redder.

'Oh' Miranda said. For a moment her eyes widened slightly as did her brow but then she smirked, amused.

"So you do." and then… she laughed.

Now Andy was angry. How dare she? Then Andy got it. She was indeed nothing to this woman. Just another toy. Just another coat stand for the dress she was about to take, like she took everything else from Andy.

"You don't look all too well yourself Miranda," she said before she realized the words left her lips.

"Oh?"

"You're blushing as well." And sure enough it was true. Miranda was really blushing. Was she actually aroused knowing Andy was…?

"It's the wine" she said…a little too quickly.

"It's not." Andy said and actually smiled.

"Oh?"

"No."

"Oh?"

"Stop that!" Andy spat and then only realized Miranda had started walking closer again.

Smirk.

Then, like a carnivore circling it's pray, Miranda put one Prada heel in front of the other as she walked even closer. She watched Andy. She watched her very closely and her neck glided very slowly side to side like a snake. She was stripping Andy with her eyes and they both knew it. Andy's intake of breath hastened.

But she was not beaten yet. She stood her ground even though her instincts told her the thing in front of her was sex on heels. She could not, would not, give in not even…

"Andrea"

Andy lifted her gaze. The silky voice covered her. She had not realized she had lowered her eyes and stared into the very eyes of the Devil, while she was a helpless girl in white.

And then _bam!_ she was pinned up against the wall.

Andy struggled to move but Miranda held her arms in place. She had a smug smirk on her face and looked like she was about to bite Andy.

"Ah…let go!" was all Andy could say.

"Not a…chance" Another smirk.

" I will have what I want…and you will not stop me."

For a moment Andy thought this was just getting to be too much. It was just a… NO it was not just a dress. It was her dress. And she was sure as hell not giving in.

"Do your worst." Andy spat and actually leaned forward struggling to get loose.

She wriggled and tugged and could feel Miranda losing her grip. If she just pulled or pushed one way or another she would… And then Miranda seized her lips, kissing her hard, in an awkward movement and escaping was no longer an option.

She sucked and bit Andy's lips, not drawing blood but it did things to Andy's body. A moan betrayed Andy at the back of her throat and she felt a smirk form over Miranda's. Somehow Miranda still managed to keep Andy under her. She nibbled Andy's jaw line and then kissed her again. Then when her tongue slipped into Andy's mouth Andy started to melt. She could still taste the blessed red wine but now it had a better flavor: Miranda. Then as Andy's knees seemed to slide out from under her, Miranda flipped her around. She had somehow managed to pin Andy that her back was to Miranda. Then without a heartbeat to waste she suddenly felt Miranda untying the corset.

"You bitch!" Andy scolded but she could not turn around. She was pinned by Miranda's body. She was practically laying on her now.

"Oh shut up. I'm almost finished." Miranda huffed.

"No." Andy said but this time it was more timid…more needing. "Stop doing-…moving- that your…pressing up against…hmmm mmm Ahhh!" and Andy's body nearly fell. Her hips buck a few times though.

Then Miranda let go of Andy's corset. Andy covered her mouth. She had nearly…

"What had just...?" Miranda asked but it was missing its usual clipped tone. She was aroused.

Andy could not lie, not now.

"It's my phone it's…ahhh!"

Miranda had pushed her pelvis against Andrea again.

"What Andrea? This is no time to…"

"My phone is rubbing against my clit!" She suddenly blurted out.

And in complete shock…Miranda ground her hips into Andy again, in turn grinding the phone against…

A deep growl escaped Andy's lips.

"How did it get there?" Miranda's breath was barely under control now, as she leaned forward, practically breathing down Andrea's neck.

"I think it slid down my breast to my..ahhh. No, stop i—it!"

"Oh?"

Then Miranda smirked.

It seemed the only way to release these matters, Miranda thought, was to make Andrea cum…continuously and she was right. Andy was not giving up the dress without a fight, even if it meant one of bodily wills. Miranda smirked. She would not disappoint…and she never did.

"Oh stop what Andrea?…This?" she ground her hips again, her hand gripping Andrea's hips, pulling her closer . Andy yelped. "Or the throbbing?"

"F-fuck you…!"

"Ha, You wish." Miranda chuckled

"I already...have. I-I am sure those tight lace panties are even wetter than I-I... was a second ago."

And then something made a strange sound and Andy was in total ecstasy.

"It appears your phone is on vibrate, yes Andrea?" .

Miranda could only hold Andrea as the vibrating phone fucked Andy into spasms that caused her to slide down the wall. Miranda let her and simply lay on her as the phone continued to grind into her along with Miranda's hips.

Talk about giving an entire new meaning to phone sex…

"Stop…it…!" but everything about Andy's response told Miranda to continue calling her. Indeed the usual calls where long overdue.

'Calls role to voice mail and she gets really upset' was out and 'let the fucking phone ring' was in.

"Sto—don't stop." Andy finally wailed.

"Oh?" but Miranda could feel her own clit suddenly rubbing against Andy's legs. It felt so good, so perfect. It fastened itself against her until the movement Andy created was enough for Miranda to…to.

They both came hard.

Andy laid there. Sated. Used. Happy. She was not as quick as Miranda to recover and suddenly she felt the dress being pulled out and over her. She was too tired to care less. Then she felt a hand on her temple. Her phone laid forgotten on the floor.

"Come on, get up and fasten this damn thing already."

Then Andy was up and awake but not before she covered her breasts. Miranda seemed to start a small blush along her neck line but soon shook it away.

"Of all the nerve." Andy said

"Indeed..." Miranda sighed "...you probably came more than 4 times and I did only once."

That was not the reaction she had expected, she had…

"Thus it will be dealt with the moment after I have made my speech and we get out of here. Understood."

It was not a question.

Speech? Dealt? We?

Andy's eyes could only stare at the sight of the over aroused Miranda. Her eyes where hazy, her body swaying and her eyes never left Andy's.

So with an unknown force Andy walked forward and started fastening the corset. She took her time at first, while scraping her fingers on Miranda's back but then stopped.

"What?" Miranda said. But it was not harsh. She turned her head to Andy.

"You will have to remove your bra."

Another flush of red.

"And?" was all Miranda said before she turned her head back around.

Andy's shaking hands touched the lace in a very slow gesture. She unclasped it very quickly but then her hands snaked under the bra to the front of Miranda till she cupped her breasts.

Miranda drew in a sudden breath.

Brilliant. Andy smirked and pinched one. Miranda's back jolted.

"Just putting them in place" she hummed.

Seems like she liked it and she did it again. She could feel Miranda swaying against her and her hips buck against her beautiful ass. She was so ready. They both were. If only she could lift the dress, pin Miranda and drive her fingers into her until she screamed Andy's name and… but Andy soon slid her hands back out and away from Miranda's breasts.

She could swear she heard a huff of protest but it passed. Andy finished fastening the corset and soon Miranda was ready to go. And about time. Andy was sure that they had been here more than an hour.

Miranda then turned around and her mask was firmly placed on her face. There were no traces of what had just happened. What had just happened anyway? She thought.

Oh that's right. Miranda only wanted the dress. Andy hung her head and clutched her breast even tighter. She felt exposed. She felt like an idiot. She felt…Miranda's kiss again but this time it was soft and warm. It was also very brief.

When she opened her eyes Miranda had already walked to the door. _She really could wear anything_, Andy thought.

"I'll wait." Andy said as Miranda unlocked the door and started to leave again.

"Oh you will." She said and with a wicked grin she locked the door and left her half naked Andy in a room with a wine stained dress. Nothing absurd there. It was normal when you were dealing with Miranda.

I love my job.

I love my job!

I

LOVE

MY…

Then…

"Alright... I will. Thanks." Nigel said sounding a little too composed.

"Did I…?"

"No, you heard right." he slowly extended his hand, handing her back her phone and looked lazily at his watch.

"And?"

"He dropped her off about a hour or so ago…"

"Oh crap, we're dead. She has to make a speech like in…"

"Yes, right about now." he said and was still very calm.

Emily could not take it anymore.

"Nigel, I know we do not speak, except at events like these, but really why are you not freaking out. Miranda is…is… late."

She said it like it was forbidden.

Nigel could only smirk.

"Or worse in trouble and here you are…"

"Oh I am sure she is fine."

"How can you be so sure?" she really tried to keep her voice in check but the bitch in her started to emerge and she full heartily gave him a glare and stood with her hands on her hips.

Nigel rolled his eyes again. It was weak compared to the icy blue eyes he still could not get use to.

He sighed.

"Because…" he pointed languidly at the stage "...my dear girl, she is there. Just in time to make her speech."

Emily shot him a 'like hell' look and turned to see the stage, the microphone and by god there the woman stood. Serene as ever with Her grace taking her queue in the most beautiful Valentino low cut corset laced dress…which was vintage and looked a little too big and…was…not..her-

"Beautiful isn't she? But I have never seen a red gaping fish as you are imitating now." Nigel did not laugh.

Emily immediately shut her mouth but still she couldn't help realizing something wrong with that picture. Sure it suited her, everything did but it…

"But…" Nigel cocked his head to the side looking "strange … wasn't she going to wear Valentino's new creation? The dress is beautiful and such but it's…"

"That's because it's Andrea's dress."

Nigel looked caught off guard for the first time tonight. Surly it can't be.

"Well just look at her…" Emily continued "...she is practically drowning in it. If it wasn't for the corset..."

"But how…?"

"How should I bloody know…" and then the Brit walked and started mumbling something about the bread sticks that stood a few feet away from her.

Nigel didn't know what to think. He did recall that that was indeed one of Andrea's dresses from Paris which he helped her get but how Miranda got hold of it he would never guess. Then he caught Miranda's eye. She had just finished her speech…he had obviously heard none of it. And…yes she saw the strange look he gave her and she started gliding towards him. Things after Paris had been...different but still professional and for the life of him he could not understand how Miranda got her hands on Andrea's dress. He bet she did not even know or…

Then she was right in front of him. From far away she seemed to be pleasantly talking to all who she had passed but she had in fact locked her gaze on Nigel. He could not help but blink and then looked up and down at the dress. Emily was right it was indeed too big…

It was a size 4 not…

"Something you want to say…Nigel?" her voice was not cold but he heard the faintest tip of something else. She was daring him to say that the dress was too big…daring him to ask whose it was…daring him to say her name…

But he did not. He knew better of it.

"Vintage, it seems, pleased Valentino." He motioned to the man in question who was happily talking with a glass of red wine in his hands.

"Indeed he found it very appealing that I would honour him in a classic rather than a new dress," she waved the comment off.

Then she smiled and said, "Tell Emily I will be leaving shortly. I want my car and my coat waiting in 15 minutes..." then she stepped closer and looked at the far entrance on her left.

Nigel blinked.

Miranda motioned with her chin, "there. When I leave this room only Roy may meet me at the exit." Then looked back at him. He did not need to nod or say 'yes Miranda.' She knew he understood and he knew she knew. After all this time she still scared him.

"Go." was the last thing she whispered before she smirked and left his side.

He did not turn around immediately but he did not miss her walking or rather sprinting to the far corner.

Miranda silently unlocked the door.

There on the ground sat Andy. She was a mess. Hair was half out of the bun it was previously twirled in and it hung in layers all around her.

She looked completely edible. Miranda thought.

Andy had tried to put Miranda's dress back on but it was …well wet and too small. It also looked like she had been sitting in red wine the entire evening.

So delicious.

"Give me my dress back. " Andy said the moment she saw Miranda. It was not harsh. Andy sounded naughty.

So vile.

"Oh?"

So ready to be sexed…

Miranda's eyebrow lifted only slightly but it was enough to draw a shiver out of Andrea.

They both where thinking the same thing it appeared.

Andy could only stare as Miranda grabbed her in a tight embrace.

Again Andy tried to escape her iron grasp but Miranda merely lowered her head and took a stray left nipple which was peeking out. Andy yelped but leaned into Miranda in no time.

Now they both wore red on their dresses. They stood like that for a while, cheek to cheek only holding each other. Then Miranda leaned in to Andy's ear.

"Come…" Miranda whispered.

"I think I just did…again." Andy said

Miranda swallowed, "Indeed, but I meant come with me."

"Where?"

"My town house." she said with a wicked grin.

"But the twins."

Miranda grabbed her again and kissed her.

"London."

She kissed her neck.

"Oh..and when…"

"Tomorrow…evening."

"Then?"

"We are leaving now." And with that Miranda pulled Andy in the direction of the door.

"Oh and when we get there you are taking that off."

Andy gasped. "No," she said sarcastically.

"I mean it. It makes you look like a Christmas tree. Red and green do not work."

"What.. well then you looked like one as well…a few minutes ago."

Miranda could only smirk at this.

"Liar." she said.

Andy grabbed her in a fierce kiss.


End file.
